


It Was Thirty-Two Hours

by PenelopeAbigail



Series: It Was [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Not really a cliffhanger but kinda, horrible ending, semi-graphic depictions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeAbigail/pseuds/PenelopeAbigail
Summary: Mac was taken by S-Company and Jack finally finds him.





	It Was Thirty-Two Hours

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second piece in a short series, but you don't necessarily need to read the first to understand this one since it's from Jack's perspective. 
> 
> Also, sorry for my absence. I promised this story, then I didn't fulfill, and it's been months. I'm sorry! I've had a lot on my plate. 
> 
> I'm not abandoning my stories, I promise :)

It was bad.

The mission went sideways so fast, and they had lost all control of the situation _within seconds_ , and the end result was _just so bad_.

It was S-Company again, ever on the alert since Ethan was outed. They were sent in to retrieve the latest spy, but—and they don’t know what happened, they don’t know how they knew they were coming, or even _who_ knew they were coming—they were ambushed literally _right after stepping out of the car._

Jack couldn’t for the life of him wrap his head around _why in the world the CIA would send another spy in right after the previous spy was made_. Anybody with two brain cells could figure out that S-Company would be on high alert.

Silvia. Her name was Silvia. They don’t know what happened to her.

Jack was fine—well, aside from some bruising and a cracked rib—because he was on the driver’s side and they had been attacked on the passenger side, giving him time to recover, assess, and engage.

Mac, though—S-Company caught them very much off guard.

When Jack had calmed the situation, having killed three men and rendered two others unconscious, and had collected himself and his thoughts, it was apparent that S-Company wasn’t looking for revenge. They were looking for intel.

Jack knew that because they hadn’t killed Mac. They’d taken him.

It had taken Jack three minutes and twenty-two seconds to calm the situation, which meant that S-Company was three minutes and twenty-two seconds ahead of him.

Jack would look back on this moment with regret for not immediately chasing after them, and Matty would tell him that he hadn’t even known which way they went, so it wouldn’t have succeeded anyway.

Then he’d say that he should have let Mac drive so that he could watch their surroundings, to which Matty would tell him that he wouldn’t have been watching their surroundings anyway since they hadn’t even gotten set up.

They hadn’t had _time_ to set up the comms. They had just arrived at their meet-up location, where they were going to connect to comms from cells and Riley was going to ping their coordinates and set up a map of where they needed to go. None of that had happened.

_How did S-Company know?_

So Mac was gone, nobody knew about it except Jack (only for about five minutes), and Riley was fifteen minutes behind, pulling up a satellite view of their location.

There was no trail to follow.

Except.

Silvia. Where was she?

It took Matty two hours to track all the information down, squeeze it from the CIA, but Silvia Garder infiltrated S-Company on December 14, checked in with her handler on December 21, and has been radio silent since. The CIA believed her to be KIA; however, judging from the fact that Mac is _gone_ and _not dead_ , Silvia may very much still be alive.

But, still no trail to follow.

Another two hours saw Bozer and Riley combing through the intel Ethan had progressively leaked, looking for locations. They came up with four. Each.

Eight hours later saw eight locations cleared, with no activity, and having had no activity for a while, given the layers of dust.

That made sense, though. S-Company knew Ethan was a traitor, knew he had leaked info such as popular locations, and had adjusted and adapted around it.

But, they’ve only had a month to relocate everything, and change things around. With as big an operation as S-Company was, it’d take more time than a simple month to _completely_ cover every single track they’ve ever left over the eight years Ethan ratted on them.

So, another six hours later saw Matty chatting with Ethan over a Riley-guaranteed safe line about other possible locations.

All the while Jack had been unable to do much at all. Eighteen hours. He sat on the knowledge that a very scary, very dangerous terrorist group had had his closest friend captive for eighteen hours, and he knew that all they wanted was information. He also knew that Mac would never willingly give up that information.

He knew that.

But he still had his doubts. He had seen the aftermath of torture before, having rescued multiple POWs while still in the Delta Force. He knew what a lot of pain could do to a person, how it could change a person, how it could make that person compromise their beliefs for just a short respite.

He was scared.

He was scared for Mac, and worried, and just out-of-his-mind.

He felt useless.

So when he got word that one of the S-Company men he’d knocked out was once again conscious, he decided to interrogate. Unfortunately, that particular man didn’t speak English, and they didn’t have a translator handy.

Jack went back to pacing and worrying and not sleeping.

Mac had been missing for 28 hours before the translator arrived on scene. Jack’s enhanced interrogation produced a location within five minutes.

Mac had been missing for 30 hours before Phoenix was able to have a sturdy team set up and ready for infiltration.

Mac had been missing for 32 hours before the team arrived on location, and Jack was able to find him.

There was a building. In that building was a basement, and in that basement, there were cinderblock walls and a solid metal door. A skeleton key taken off a dead guy opened it. There was a chair in the center, and a person slumped on it.

That’s all Jack registered before he ran straight for him, with an urgent, “Mac!?” trailing behind.

He didn’t hear the faint whimper or see the slight tensing of muscles. He just clicked on his flashlight to get a better look and assess the situation before touching. Which was a good idea, because he would have gone straight for a shoulder-squeeze of solitude—and that shoulder looked bad. Swollen black and blue, it was clearly dislocated.

_Mac wasn’t wearing a shirt._

“Mac?” He prompted before searching the kid further. There was a faint whine as an answer, which Jack very much didn’t like.

He didn’t want to shine his bright light in Mac’s eyes, but he didn’t see any blood in his hair, so he continued his assessment, crouching down to get a better look.

Mac’s hands were both palm-up on the arms of the chair, with some sort of metal gear resting on his up-turned wrist, connecting open wires to… something off to the side, Jack abandoned that trail when he saw a car battery to the right of them, along with what looked like a homemade cattle prod.

Jack wasn’t stupid. He knew what that meant. His face paled and he sniffed, inhaling the faint residual electrical charge of the open wires which told him his assumptions were correct—Mac had been shocked. He felt a wave of pity and compassion wash over him as he also smelt tangy urine in the air.

“ _Oh, Mac_.”

Continuing his investigation, he noticed that Mac’s clothes were wet, not even close to drying out yet, and that the kid was shivering slightly. It wasn’t cold down in that room—no, on the contrary, it was a little on the warm side, but not overly so. Mac wasn’t shivering from the cold.

While the kid had no shirt, his pants and shoes were intact, so Jack couldn’t get a read about any injuries pertaining to his legs or feet, but the optometrist (he faintly heard the Mac in his head correct him to _optimist_ ) in him hoped the kid was pretty okay. He just had to cut his bonds and get them out of there.

Only one problem.

There were no bonds. There was just blood.

Maybe the wires were keeping him there?

Turning around, Jack pulled on the wire, looking for wherever they trailed, only to come up short. They led to nowhere. Maybe they had been used for something, but as of now, Jack was unsure what that _something_ was. He needed to get his boy out of that chair, so he gently tugged them from Mac’s wrists—only to produce a violent shudder from Mac along with a low, cut-off scream.

What just happened?

Jack froze and slowly approached Mac, who had stilled in the chair, barely breathing.

“Mac? Hey, kid, it’s me, it’s Jack.”

That got a reaction, and Jack couldn’t help the encouraging smile.

Mac lifted his head and squinted in Jack’s general direction. But there was no sound.

Jack edged closer, keeping an eye on Mac the whole time. He didn’t move, barely acknowledged his presence.

Made sense, the kid must have been exhausted, and it wasn’t like this window-less room had a lot of natural sunlight.

He took another look at Mac’s hands, trying to figure out why he hadn’t moved them if there were no bonds. There was lots of blood, all over his wrists and hands and arms, and Jack couldn’t be sure of an origin. Maybe there had been handcuffs that bit into— _but then he saw it_. The gear that he thought was just resting on Mac’s wrist was actually a screw, a large flathead screw the size of a fingernail.

Jack’s blood ran cold again, and he rocked back on his heels, closing his eyes and wiping a hand over his face. S-Company drilled a screw through Mac’s wrists to keep him in the chair.

His kid must’ve driven them crazy by escaping his bonds, crazy enough for them to do _that_.

He took a moment to think, to assess. He didn’t know what to do. If he took those screws out, Mac’d likely bleed out more than he already has.

In the moment his brain calmed down, he tuned back in to the chatter in his ear. Some their soldiers were rounding up S-Company, some were in pursuit, but he didn’t hear the normal inquisition of Matty, Riley, or Bozer. They must still be waiting on him.

“Um, guys,” he started, “…Package is located.” He took a moment to breathe.

Riley’s voice questioned him, “ _You found him? Is he okay?_ ”

Then Bozer’s, “ _Why do we only hear_ you _, Jack?_ ”

“I found him, but… Matty, what’s the ETA on the medics?”

He heard the unmistakable sound of Riley and Bozer’s hope dropping in a small gasp from each, but he didn’t hear Matty’s reply, because just then: “…Jack?”

It was very quiet, but it was Mac’s voice, and Jack jumped right on it, levering up onto his knees and gently cupping the back of Mac’s wandering head with his right hand.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m right here. It’s all over, and we’re going to get you out of here, well, just as soon as the EMTs arrive—“

That’s when he noticed the blood on Mac’s face, the swollen eye, the busted lip, and the very large, very prominent bruise along Mac’s jawline.

Poor kid’s taken one hell of a beating, that was evident. His eyes were barely open at all. But they were open, and looking right at Jack.

“Jack.” Mac’s eyes closed in what Jack thought to be relief, his whole body releasing some of the tension and shifting a bit, only to stop short with a whimper that Jack couldn’t stop from breaking his heart.

“I know, buddy, I know it hurts, but we’re gonna get you outa here real soon, just gotta wait another few minutes.” And then he pressed his finger to his earpiece, turned his head and asked, “Matty, ETA again?”

“ _Ten minutes, Jack._ ”

“Hey, Mac,” Jack cupped the back of his head, and with his other hand he lifted Mac’s chin a bit, directing his gaze towards Jack again, “I don’t know if this is important, but could you stay awake for me? Huh, bud? Just stay awake for a lil bit longer.”

Mac didn’t open his eyes, but he groaned out, “’s not important.”

Jack’s face lit up, a smile stretching his mouth wide, “You don’t wanna talk to your pal, Jack, just for a few minutes?”

Jack wasn’t specifically looking for it, but he thought he saw Mac’s mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile.

“ _Jack,_ ” Matty’s voice came through, “ _Dr. Lee is here from medical. Tell him Mac’s condition and he’ll walk you through it.”_

A new voice joined in, Dr. Lee presumably, “ _Agent Dalton, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll walk you through stabilizing Agent MacGyver to hold until the EMTs arrive. Start with telling me where he’s injured._ ”

Jack took a moment to notice that Mac’s head got heavier in his hands. Maybe the kid was letting him take most of the weight. Hopefully he hadn’t passed out. Although, Jack wasn’t sure if it was important to keep him awake. He knew in the event of a concussion it was, but now?

He gently lowered Mac’s head down to hang like it had before, and he restarted his assessment, “Well, his shoulder’s out, and, um…” He took a breath, not sure if he wanted to put Riley, Bozer, and Matty through hearing all this, but then again, they’d find out some way.

“…He’s got, I’d say,” he crouched down beside the arm of the chair to determine the length of the screws used, maybe that’d be important, he didn’t know. He didn’t really want to let his mind linger on the fact that there were _screws drilled through Mac’s wrists_ , “…maybe five inch screws through his wrists keeping him in this damn chair. There’s a lot of blood. I figured taking them out right now wouldn’t be the best course of action.”

He stood back up, and Dr. Lee replied, his voice slightly less firm than it was a second ago, “ _Yes, that’s a good call. He’ll likely bleed out if they are removed. Wait for the paramedics._ ”

The good doc took a breath, and Jack went on, “There’s a car battery over here, attached to a home-brew cattle prod, and since he’s soaking wet, I’d say they were using—“

He stopped when he heard Bozer’s _oh God_ , but he also heard Mac.

“Jack, wha’s goin’ on?”

It was stronger than Mac’s previous attempts, but confusion and disorientation were clearly not good.

“Just chatting with the good doc about how to help you. You just hang tight for a little longer, okay champ?”

“…’m hungry…”

Jack didn’t want to ignore Mac, but he needed the Doc’s help more, “He seems confused, I’m guessing that’s a concussion?”

The war room must’ve been hanging on every word, every sound, because Dr. Lee responded immediately, “ _Most likely, but the medics can figure that out when they arrive. For now, you just need to focus on what’s doing him the most harm._ ”

Jack sat down, right in front of Mac, so even with his head hanging, the kid could still see him if he’d open his eyes. “That’s the thing, doc. There’s nothing life threatening that I can see besides the blood from his wrists.”

Mac’s fingers twitched. The kid probably ached to move. If Jack was right, Mac’d been sitting in that chair for over 24 hours. His muscles probably needed to stretch and his butt was probably numb. Knowing how restless Mac can get in certain situations and the fact that he’s barely twitching implied sleep deprivation as well.

“ _Let’s determine his cognitive relay. Ask him the basics._ ”

Jack crouched forward, gently touching his knee, “Hey, Mac?”

Eyes open, focused on Jack.

“Do you know where you are?”

Mac lifted his head slightly, turned and looked around, “…torture dungeon?” There was a definite smile on his lips, but Jack was concerned that Mac didn’t know where they were. Mac continued before Jack could, “Not home. Serbia? No… no, not Cairo…um…”

Jack wasn’t going to interrupt, knowing that Mac just needed to remember.

And he did, “…Island, right? Cypus. Ethan! Jack, they killed her—“

Mac was getting himself worked up, his mind not fully in the moment for reasons Jack wasn’t too sure about, but either way, Mac was trying to sit up in his seat, head swiveling around to figure out where they were and how to escape, but he caught himself jerking against the bolts in his arms and knocking his shoulder again the chair’s back. He cried out, clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes, stilling his movements.

Jack wasn’t sure if he should stop Mac from moving so much, unsure if it was a good idea to stop him from remembering, but he didn’t have to. Mac stilled on his own. Jack’s one hand was still on Mac’s knee, and when Mac stilled, grimacing, Jack rested his other hand on his other knee to try to ground Mac more in the here and now.

“Hey, try not to move—“ He started, but Mac interrupted him, voice pinched, “—No, Jack, my _knee_.”

Jack let go of both knees, unsure of what Mac was talking about. It wasn’t like the wet clothing was doing Mac any good, so with his tactical knife, he cut the soaked pants above both knees, gently as to not hurt the kid any more than he already had. Mac’s knee must be injured somehow, and Jack just couldn’t see it through the pants.

Sure enough, after ripping a large enough hole, Mac’s left knee was black and blue, just like his shoulder. But nothing looked out of place.

However, Jack was no expert on human biology, so he asked the doc, “Mac’s knee looks pretty banged up, all dark colors and bruises, but I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.”

Jack watched Mac’s facial expressions soften as the pain left while the doc relayed his thoughts, “ _He’s sitting in a chair, sure. Is his leg stretched out, or bent?_ ”

It was definitely bent, with his foot against the chair leg, and Jack told him as much, but it was Mac who told them what happened.

Eyes still screwed up, “Hammer,” was all he said.

These terrorists sure liked their work tools.

“ _Is it broken?_ ”

Jack didn’t want to hurt Mac, and he wasn’t sure if he could figure that out unless he touched the knee himself.

“I dunno, Doc. Mac’s not moving it, if that’s any sign.”

“ _The EMTs are only a few minutes away. It can wait. Ask him the year, the president, the—“_

“He already remembers the basics of what happened. You sure further questioning can’t wait til later?”

“ _It can. Is speaking putting him through unnecessary stress?”_

Judging from the way Mac keeps letting his jaw go slack and the pinched-ness in his voice, Jack would say it hurts to speak.

“Maybe. Can’t be sure, but it’s a possibility.” Then he focussed his attention on Mac, who was again, bobbing his head like he was trying to not fall asleep. He continued, “Oh man, Doc, he’s super exhausted. Can he risk sleeping?”

“ _As we are yet unsure of a concussion at all, keep him awake just in case. ETA two minutes.”_

Keep him awake. All Jack knew would be to talk to him, get Mac to talk back.

“Hey, Mac, you still with me?”

Mac didn’t move.

Jack got a bit closer and the familiar action of cupping the back of his head shook Mac to open his eyes.

“Hey there, Angus. ETA is only two minutes. Two more minutes of staying awake for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Mac weakly shook his head side to side. Jack kept talking, “It’s okay. I know you’re tired, but listen,” and he adjusted his grip, wanting to grip Mac with his other hand, too, but unsure of where. So he just wrapped it around the back of the kid’s head too.

“How about you tell us what hurts? Let me know where to not touch you?”

Mac opened his eyes, looking straight at Jack for a few seconds, then scrunched his eyebrows together like he was thinking, “Umm… my—my hands, or arms. I dunno, hurts a lot. Don’t like moving…”

The pain was probably radiating up and down the kid’s entire arms, and since that was the first answer, that was probably the most painful part of Mac’s body.

He went on, “…My shoulder. Dislocated, ‘think? And my, um, my foot—no, ankle. They kept stepping on it.”

Jack looked down at his feet. It just dawned on him that his feet hadn’t moved from their positions either. He didn’t see any bindings, so why…

He reached down and lifted the end of Mac’s pants, revealing light brown cord wound tightly around Mac’s ankle and the chair leg.

“Hey, doc, there’s rope securing Mac’s legs. Looks like it’s cutting circulation. Good idea to cut it or no?”

Mac was still talking, but Jack was listening to Dr. Lee, “ _Yes, the sooner the circulation is returned, the better. We don’t know how long it’s been or how bad it is._ ”

Jack sawed through the rope fairly easily with his knife, but in order to do so, he had to have a purchase on it, and the rope was on Mac’s ankle. When he gripped it, Mac hissed through clenched teeth, but Jack didn’t stop until the leg was freed.

Not a moment too soon either, because just then, the medics came in, three of them, and Jack handed his boy over and took a step back.

“Thanks for all your help, Doc.”

Matty’s voice answered, “ _Okay, Jack, our boy’s in good hands. Follow them and as soon as Mac’s ready for transport, come back home._ ”

That surprised Jack. Because Mac wasn’t their mission. Had Matty forgot about that?

“Uh, Matty, what about Agent Garder?”

He was watching the paramedics closely, but was still hanging on to Matty’s words, “ _We received visual confirmation of Agent Garder’s death. We’ve already got her, and we’re bringing her home._ ”

Jack wanted to say, _The CIA should have thought about that before they sent her out so quickly_ , but he knew that was inappropriate given the time and setting. He kept his silence, apart from a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“ _Go with Mac, Jack. Get some sleep, if you can.”_

That’s exactly what he intended to do, slumping to the ground to watch as the EMTs wheeled in a squeaky gurney, watched as Mac twitched and shot forward with the ghost of a scream on his lips, listened to Mac ramble and whine.

“Don’t know, please, no, no, don’t—I don’t know, please, please _please don’t—_ “

His eyes were blown wide, his whole body shaking, and Jack didn’t even think before he hopped up and over to Mac’s side. The poor kid was freaking out, and it was probably because he was surrounded by hustling EMTs. So Jack pushed them side and settled his body on Mac’s right, murmuring reassurances in Mac’s ear to help calm him.

“Mac, it’s okay, I’m still here—“

Mac’s eyes were scrunched tight, head twisting from side to side, and fingers twitching where they lay.

Jack swiped a hand to catch and still Mac’s movement but missed—“Mac? Hey, buddy.”—so he reached out with both hands to capture his face.

Success!

“Mac? Wanna open those beautiful eyes for me, wanna look at your man, Jack?”

He cradled Mac’s jaw, holding his head still firmly without squeezing too tight. The kid had bruises all along his jawline. The medics were talking amongst themselves, probably about Mac’s condition, but that didn’t concern him at the moment.

“Hey, _I’m_ right here. You’ll see me if you’ll open your eyes.”

The kid was lightly shaking still, nothing too bad, and he opened tear-filled eyes that darted all around them. He was still freaked out, still panicking, still seeing foes in friends.

“I’m here for ya, kid, just look at me, and it’ll all be okay.”

Their eyes met, and Mac sobbed, not quite focusing completely through his tears.

The medics were trying to get his attention, trying to get him to back away and let them through, but they didn’t understand that Mac needed him. He waved them off without looking, then resettled his grip on Mac’s jaw, trying to catch his wandering eyes.

“Mac, look at me, buddy. Mac?”

He stared right at Jack, but his face still read _confused_ and _panicked_ but maybe he was listening, maybe he was trying to listen. He just needed to listen to one voice.

“It’s just the medics. They’re here to make sure you get home in one piece. They’re not going to hurt you.”

Mac blinked a few times, clearing his vision and looked back at Jack, eyebrows raised in hope, and Jack knew the kid was seeing him, was finally understanding.

But the medics were trying to get to him, trying to make sure he was okay, and trying to assess the damage, and they were diverting Mac’s attention, making him fidgety and his jaw fought Jack’s hold.

“ _Mac!_ ” He softly snapped.

Mac stopped, hearing his voice and seeking him out. Jack twisted more to the side, so that Mac wouldn’t see the EMT’s needle. He didn’t know what they were giving him, but he trusted them and he had more important things to worry about.

Mac’s attention span was a wreck though, and he sobbed openly, snot flowing from his nose, and tears running down his cheeks.

Jack’s heart was tearing itself into pieces. The kid he swore to protect was in monumental pain right in front of him, and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t help, couldn’t even get Mac to look at him.

“Mac, please? For me? Just look at me.”

He gently patted Mac’s cheek, using touch to grab his attention, and it worked! Mac’s teary eyes landed on him again.

“Mac, buddy, hey, hey there, listen to me, Mac, you hafta stay very still, okay?”

Body still trembling, eyes still watering, Mac was still terrified, but he was staring right into Jack’s soul, begging for comfort, for freedom, and Jack would be damned if he didn’t provide.

But Mac wasn’t acknowledging a word he was saying. He needed Mac to calm down, to listen.

“Mac, come on, man, I know you’re hearing me, say that you understand, can you do that for me?”

Mac tried to move his head, but the action was a frail thing, barely even a twitch. Jack shook his head, about to tell Mac to stop moving again, but Mac answered. Mac answered, and Jack’s heart leapt into his throat in joy.

“I—yeah, und’rst’nd,” he slurred, “st’y—stay still.”

Jack smiled. Mac was going to be okay. He wasn’t out of his mind, just tired and confused. If the medics weren’t going to stop it, Jack would let Mac fall asleep. He could see it in his body language, the way Mac was slumped in the chair, hair askew, eyes half-lidded.

Jack was pretty sure the substance in that needle was a sedative, and that they were going to knock Mac out before disconnecting him from the chair. That was going to be painful, and nobody, least of all Jack, wanted Mac to go through that.

His suspicions were confirmed as Mac’s eyes slid shut, and Jack was supporting the full weight of Mac’s head as it slumped in his hands.

He was going to hold Mac through this whole process, but one of the medics set his hand on Jack’s shoulder, saying, “Sir, he’d unconscious now. Could you take a step back so we can work more quickly?”

Of course Jack would do that. He wanted Mac out of there as fast as possible.

He scooted back toward the wall, slid to his butt, and sat until they were carrying Mac out on a stretcher.

~

The EMTs had checked Mac over, finding a broken ankle, but the bone hadn’t been displaced much, so the healing process shouldn’t take more than a month. His shoulder may take a week or so, just because it had been displaced for over 24 hours. His knee wasn’t completely broken, they’d told Jack, just fractured and very very bruised. It’d take maybe three weeks to heal. The bruises he sustained from what Jack could only assume was a hefty beating wouldn’t take as long as the others—the doctor skimmed over that one, not releasing a timeframe.

Not that it even mattered. They’d be all healed up before Mac would even be released from the hospital, probably.

His wrists were in rough shape. The bolts had separated and broken multiple bones in each hand, lacerated the tissue, muscles, and tendons, and given him minor sepsis. The doctors were worried about nerve damage, but as soon as he wakes, Jack was supposed to call the nurses so they can check on just that.

The issue, though, was that with multiple broken bones in each hand, Mac might not be able to move them in a way that indicated nerve damage. Jack wasn’t sure exactly what the doctors were going to do for nerve tests, but he trusted them.

The most concerning problem was the damage caused by all the electricity. What Jack hadn’t been able to see in the primitive lighting of that torture dungeon were the multiple electrical burns scattered across Mac’s upper body. The doctors counted twelve, each with varying degrees of severeness.

And to make matters worse, the doctors say that so much electrical current going through his body may have left its mark on his heart.

Mac might end up with a heart condition.

When Jack had been told that, he could have fainted.

Reporting back to Matty, Jack relayed that he was unsure of how long they’d be stuck in the hospital. He’d been there for just about twelve hours already, hasn’t slept a wink, and not once did Mac wake up.

Jack was praying by Mac’s bedside that he could fully heal—that he _wouldn’t_ walk out of here with a heart condition.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I shouldn't end it like that. Don't worry, there's another story in this series, from Bozer's POV. It'll jump ahead in the timeline, but it'll fill in the gaps. When will I get it finished and uploaded? Great question. Can't wait for the teacher to tell us all the answer!


End file.
